For those who don't know what it is: HERE (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bouts-Rim%C3%A9s) or, simply, someone writes down a list of ending words that rhyme and the poet has to make up a poem using those words in that order. For instance, the rhyme scheme breeze, elephant, squeeze, pant, scant, please, hope, pope are submitted, and the following stanza is the result:

Escaping from the Indian breeze,
The vast, sententious elephant
Through groves of sandal loves to squeeze
And in their fragrant shade to pant;
Although the shelter there be scant,
The vivid odours soothe and please,
And while he yields to dreams of hope,
Adoring beasts surround their Pope.

Let's start:

pen
hole
ten
bowl
kill
still
steam
dream

Each successive poet should provide a new list of words.

March Hare

06-30-2009, 04:39 PM

They put me in the pen
They threw me in the hole
They gave me five to ten
Because I like to smoke a bowl
I did not rob, rape or kill
Yet they locked me in here still
Youth vanished into steam
Chained even when I dream

MorpheusSandman

06-30-2009, 05:39 PM

:D Very nice! I guess I should have mentioned that each successive poet needs to provide a new list of words.

March Hare

06-30-2009, 05:54 PM

:D Very nice!

Thanks. Pardon the corniness of the last couplet. Steam and dream, for some reason, don't lend themselves to lightheartedness.

Do I stick with the same rhyme scheme? How about...

take
show
shake
tow
free
knee
core
more

MorpheusSandman

07-01-2009, 11:25 PM

You don't have to stick to the same rhyme scheme, but you can.

Should I take
You to the show
And buy a shake
With fries in tow
It won't be free
But on my knee
I'll bear my core
And beg for more

Next, a bit tougher;

Geranium
Pepper
Leper
Titanium
Cranium
Gear
Leer
Fear

balehead

09-28-2009, 06:13 PM

I wasn’t quite sure if I was allowed to add endings to the words; so mine may not be quite right, and my lines are a bit long, but her it is anyhow...

She walks down the street in a hurry, clasping her precious bundle to her chest - Geraniums.
The bright red flower petals, so carefully nestled against her bosom, are bruised as rain peppers
Down upon her, and the tall metal buildings lining the street seem to shut her out, like a leper.
Blocked in by the insanely corrugated walls of choking titanium,
She hurries on her way, desperate thoughts swirling around inside her cranium,
She has to turn her speed up a gear -
She starts to run when as she becomes aware of a stranger dogging her footsteps, a stranger with a leer.
Her feet now drumming along the street in time with her pursuer, her heart is held in the cruel grip of never-ending fear.

The next words are:
Bower
Mare
Pair
Flower
Tower
Lay
Ray
Bay

(Very unimaginative, I know, and I apologise)

MorpheusSandman

10-24-2009, 11:00 PM

Very interesting! The lines are a bit long, but I like what you did with the words.

Under the green and shadowed bower
Stands the sad and gentle mare
I'll join her there; we're quite the pair
I'll court her with a sugared, honeyed flower
And build this brick affair into a tower
Out on the greens we'll lay
Under the sunbeam's ray
To keep our grief at bay

Next:

Guilt
Steel
Ocean
Built
Feel
Potion
Singer
Bringer

MorpheusSandman

12-20-2009, 11:33 PM

bump; no takers?

qimissung

01-23-2010, 01:34 AM

As snow covers the remote hills, so guilt
blankets my hopless heart; steel
sky resolved to hold me in contempt and the ocean;
is that the drowning deep on which our love is built?
my feet can't find you, nor my heart feel
An I fear I've drunk a poisoned potion
O sky, O heart, a sheep a flock, be thou the singer
An I, I will be the shepherd and the bringer

Next:

reap
quail
mead
barkeep
wail
frenzied
pier
fakir

MorpheusSandman

01-25-2010, 01:48 AM

Good gravy quimi... not only is this an excellent Boutes-Rimes poem, it's a phenomenal poem period! It has a very neo-classical feel to it that is sometimes a bi-product of the form yet you make it work beautifully. Superbly done!

You "sew what you reap"
Quips the quail
"I need my mead,
My burly barkeep"
I weepingly wail
Frazzled and frenzied
As I stand on the edge of a mile high pier
Could I have just bought it all from the local fakir?

Lol, I dunno if that makes sense at all; but that's part of the fun I guess.

Next:

bovine
elixir
divine
fixer
periphrastic
mixer
fantastic
No!
elastic

qimissung

01-25-2010, 10:47 PM

Thank you Morpheus! That made my day.

These words were tough! This poem is not so good; if you think Georgette Heyer you'll be on the right track (sorry, but what are you going to do with bovine, mixer and periphrastic? Have you been drinking peppermint schnappes!!!!? :))

That one with her long face and wide set eyes is merely bovine
I do believe I perfer her, the one sipping punch as if it were elixir
To be the first to break her heart would be quite divine
I much prefer that to being the one who comes after, the fixer
In all matters of the heart, I fear I am quite periphrastic
What a grand joke God played by pouring us all into this mixer
The jaded, the naive, the country mouse, the young at heart-fantastic!
I'll not partake, conniving mamas irritate, but, those violet eyes.. No!
In matters of love, it seems, my heart is not elastic.

Next up:

quarrel
tranquil
choral
shameful
mistral
arbor
chamber

MorpheusSandman

01-26-2010, 08:35 PM

Hehe, I actually quite liked it. Yeah, sometimes it's fun to come up with a set of words that you can't imagine one could put together in a coherent poem. I think you did a great job considering those words.

Oh why, oh why, must we endlessly quarrel?
I much, I much, prefer a life more tranquil;
A place to embrace a Bach-like choral
Instead we must fight and it's too, too shameful
But after, just after, we'll endure this mistral
I'll quietly, softly, repair to the arbor
And after, like always, we'll head to our chamber

Locus
Error
Focus
Bearer
Street
Fleet
Merry
Jerry

firefangled

01-27-2010, 01:00 AM

OK, I'm game.

Preternatural expectations, locus
heaven-made and hell-bent with error,
and I the child you forced to focus
on the wounds and not the patient bearer
of each haploid slip on a twisted street
from and leading everywhere, or like a fleet
of purposes sunk in the blood, like merry
drunks pissing on the floor before the jerry.

***
couplets if you please:

wretch
fetch
knife
life
lorry
story
commode
abode

qimissung

01-27-2010, 10:43 PM

You're on, firefangled. Here goes.

love, that fitful wretch
bowed down, threw me a bone to fetch

then, sly wench, pulled out a knife
and took my life

midday. London. in black and white I grab a lorry
midday. London. dancing down the street, I'm in a Julie Christie story

take my fury and my anger, shove them in a French commode
and love, too-that's your're new abode.

Q

immanent
grievous
nascent
lotus
stormy
fig
blithely
renege

MorpheusSandman

01-27-2010, 11:26 PM

Oooh, I loved both of the last pieces. From the dark and evocative piece of fire's and the witty whimsy of qimi's.

The moan was meant and immanent
A lament for the grizzled grievous
God who sees humanity nascent
Like the lily and the lotus
But the onus is on the stormy
Weather, as water drip drops down the fig
Could you blindly see and blithely
Feel for a God that did renege?

Shoehorn
Corporeal
Memorial
Born
Leg
Log
Fog
Beg
Isis
Crisis

qimissung

01-28-2010, 12:05 AM

What a masterful use of rhyme and alliteration! I'll see what I can do with the next lot.

qimissung

01-28-2010, 11:29 PM

the interloper came, thinking he could shoehorn
her into the ebony ivory and cedar corporeal
body that he deemed love, the tamarisk memorial
into which all must go who have been to humans born
o set! her black locks shorn, her gray gown rent, and the last leg
of the journey spent, she retrieved the log
that had, in mercy, ferried her across the night of tears and fog
bring him, o bring him back I beg I beg I beg
and as the waters of the river rise, she hovers, wings outspread, and Isis
eats the thirteenth piece, delays the crisis

The flight of emptiness hangs to confiscate
the souls as susurrus stills to gestate
the long silence. Slipping his surplice,
Monsignor prepares for the chelate
of flesh and gold, before the timorous.

Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus made artless
for the masses, the tintinnabulation,
the plaintive peals quelled in stratus.

***
chord
primitive
muster
string
wheel
iris
matins
vespers

MorpheusSandman

01-31-2010, 09:35 PM

I love both of the last two pieces. This is really becoming a depository of great poems!

I heard the silence strike a chord
In the depths of the great primitive
Life; it was all we could muster
Then on our tremulous single string.
And yet was fire and the wheel
A mere illusion and we'd not seen Iris through our iris;
But in these early hours we'll sing our matins
To relieve the time until we tune our vespers

Herald
Mold
Gambol
Emerald
Congeal
Coherent
Apparent
Reveal

qimissung

02-06-2010, 01:58 PM

It took me awhile, long week and all that, but here it is. Boy, Morpheus, you play hardball, that's for sure! :D

February herald
unriven gray with clouds like patchy mold
under this shroud, the children at play do not seem to gambol,
much less the clouds; emerald
cat eyes wait to peek from tree limbs; meanwhile, hopes congeal
my thoughts sliver on the ice, slice coherent
silver melodies into apparent
golden dice; beware, dawn has died and the father's sins reveal

Gah, this wasn't bad until those last 4 words which really ruined what I was trying to do with the piece!

You lonely little ruby rose
Why are you so grievous
When you should be full of hubris?
Did the cold foreclose
Your petals? Did those evil fungous
Gangsters steal your pesos?
Relax and I will be your aegis
Carried by the minnows
I'll save you from the plowshares
So you don't get lost in tares

Complot
Hours
Umlaut
Flowers
Cower
Brief
Leaf
Devour
Broad
Fraud

qimissung

02-07-2010, 02:27 AM

"Did those evil fungous gangsters steal lyour pesos" has got to be the best line of poetry ever written!!! :lol:

MorpheusSandman

02-08-2010, 02:59 AM

I realized I actually reversed the order of those two lines (from what you had listed)... I guess I lose the game but, hey, if you liked the line so much I guess you don't mind cutting me a break. :)

Alexander III

02-08-2010, 02:31 PM

Every beauty like a flower
shall fade in a bleak hour,
Leaving a pale leaf
Of joys ever so brief,

Our life is but a fraud
Only seeming broad,
Till Time comes to devour
Leaving man in an eternal cower,

We are but ink in complot
With Time's foreign Umlaut.

Man
Pan
Time
Rhyme
Lost
Cost
Sand
Hand
Will
Fill

* Ahh dam I just realized we are meant to follow the order of the list, oh well...

qimissung

02-18-2010, 12:18 AM

I think you did a brilliant job of coming up with a coherent phrase for umlaut. i think we can use whatever rhyme scheme we like. OK, here's what I came up with.

here we stand in the blazoning sun, dear man
I'll toast your ingenuity with wine and bread and pan
and ask if you've looked lately at the time
it's getting late, you know, and there's no reason, no rhyme
to lose will cost
us everything; I let the sand
sift through my hand
will what he hath wrought still
be, belong to us 'ere long? Thy will...

gopher
aver
craven
blither

chasten
bacon
zwieback
paean

MorpheusSandman

05-01-2010, 02:49 AM

Boy, that's a tough list qimi!

I killed that Caddyshack gopher
As coroner, I must aver
Because he was craven
And indulged in blithe blither

I hastened to chasten
Our piggies for bacon
Where I'll eat them on zwieback
And a paean

NEXT:

Peripatetic
Skein
Exposure
Urbane
Pathetic
Poseur

Eerily
Labyrinth
Verily
Absinthe
Bubble
Double
Trouble

krymsonkyng

06-07-2010, 01:23 PM

Never so pleased but peripatetic
they traveled on, in tragic skein,
too wind-wise they wandered. Exposure
for swans never seemed so urbane!
Below them dreamed a pathetic
duck; doomed to remain a poseur.

Down the quacker ducked, eerily
deep within his apocryphal labyrinth;
A maze of avian instruments verily
mixed and mired in dreams like absinthe.
The hack brought a drought to bubble.
The quack thought about it double
and took a scientific sip of trouble!

Cascade
Sky
Facade
Promenade
Laid
Masterfully
Fly
Julie

qimissung

02-01-2011, 11:19 AM

As snow covers the remote hills, so guilt
blankets my hopless heart; steel
sky resolved to hold me in contempt and the ocean;
is that the drowning deep on which our love is built?
my feet can't find you, nor my heart feel
An I fear I've drunk a poisoned potion
O sky, O heart, a sheep a flock, be thou the singer
An I, I will be the shepherd and the bringer

Next:

reap
quail
mead
barkeep
wail
frenzied
pier
fakir

I think that's not bad for the first time....

YesNo

02-12-2011, 11:42 AM

I think that's not bad for the first time....
Yes, I agree. I especially liked how you handled the "singer/bringer" rhyme at the end.

Never so pleased but peripatetic
they traveled on, in tragic skein,
too wind-wise they wandered. Exposure
for swans never seemed so urbane!
Below them dreamed a pathetic
duck; doomed to remain a poseur.

Down the quacker ducked, eerily
deep within his apocryphal labyrinth;
A maze of avian instruments verily
mixed and mired in dreams like absinthe.
The hack brought a drought to bubble.
The quack thought about it double
and took a scientific sip of trouble!

Cascade
Sky
Facade
Promenade
Laid
Masterfully
Fly
Julie

Walking Down Their Favorite Path

Our dreams cascade.
Let clouds disturb the peaceful sky
Or make some pitiful facade.
I'd promenade
With Julie. Why? Our plans were laid
So masterfully
But now they fly
Like clouds and my sweet Julie.

Here are the next rhymes.

can
start
ran
heart
play
will
day
still

Delta40

02-12-2011, 05:43 PM

Here are the next rhymes.

can
start
ran
heart
play
will
day
still

She screamed at me 'Yes I can!'
and I thought she might start
another tantrum where she ran
amok and broke my heart
but she chattered in her play
I smiled against my will
and yearned for the day
when her tongue would keep still

next rhyme words

call
request
hall
digest
letter
fight
better
right

YesNo

02-13-2011, 07:23 PM

next rhyme words

call
request
hall
digest
letter
fight
better
right
If anyone has worked on something with Delta40's rhyme words, please post it. This is just one contribution to the challenge.

In the Nursing Home Suddenly Seeing Her Dead Husband

It's rarely that you've cared to call.
And, no. I have no last request.
They dare not push me down the hall.
They've nothing that I can digest.
You never sent me one love letter.
Remember how we used to fight?
I know we could have done it better.
We had some good times, honey. Right?

The next rhyme words:

sing
while
sting
smile
love
light
of
bright

MorpheusSandman

03-29-2011, 10:52 AM

Sit down and join me as I sing
And rest your bones a while
You've suffered long through winter's sting
Without so much's a smile
Like you we all just need some love
And just a little light
I'll tell you now what we're made of
It's something big and bright...

Traipse
Slobber
Clobber
Lapse
Shoal
Creek
Peek
Goal
Jumper
Mumper

MystyrMystyry

09-02-2011, 10:51 PM

bumps it

YesNo

09-03-2011, 07:44 PM

Mental Adventures

Among my current thoughts I like to traipse
Pretending I don't see the weak ones slobber
And they as well hope I'm not prone to clobber
Them since all the fault is mine and any lapse.

Reality is linked with a sand shoal,
But I prefer to wallow up the creek
Where fairies like to tease and let me peek
As I forget again what was my goal.

Unlikely I will ever be a jumper,
Since from my box I beg like any mumper.

right
see
be
night

say
done
fun
play

will
still

MystyrMystyry

09-04-2011, 06:20 PM

I look to my left and then my right,
Not anticipating what I do see:
Things as they are, not as should be;
Here in broad daylight which is also night

Begin to wonder if anything I say
Will have meaning ere my work is done;
But then again it's all in good fun -
Take a stick and ball - go and play

When my uncle passed he left a will -
Passed wind that is, therefore ill will - now be still...

rabbits
hatch
patch
habits

carrots
hop
flop
parrots

sickness
thickness

MorpheusSandman

04-27-2012, 03:23 AM

I think MstyrMiystyry is trying to get me to write a poem about rabbits! Ok, here's a try:

Be vewy quiet while I'm hunting wabbits
Awaiting for a plan to hatch.
Maybe I'll sneak inside their vege patch,
Observing all their daily habits.
I notice that they like their tasty carrots,
They move around with hippity-hops,
Their ears are long and fuzzy, and they flop,
And they don't talk like yapping parrots.
Oh, Warner Bros! I think I've caught the sickness
Of catching wascally-wabbits's thickness.